


Aldebaran

by laissemoidanser



Category: True Detective
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, magical realism elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laissemoidanser/pseuds/laissemoidanser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Short ficlet written at the request of my dear friend Chels ;)</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oddlydrawnthoughts23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oddlydrawnthoughts23/gifts).



> Short ficlet written at the request of my dear friend Chels ;)

 

***

It was hot Louisiana summer in its glory. The last one they’d spend there. They were standing by the river pier, breathing in the cooled fresh air coming from the calm dark waves. Rust was leaning on a rail, observing the movement of the wind across the water surface, his troublesome hair curl flopping over his forehead. Marty came up to him and stood by his side so that now they both were cherishing this single moment of freedom from the killing heat and cruel sun of the quickly fading day. Along the road, a line of abandoned houses stretched for miles and miles ahead, being their only silent company. Marty stepped very close to Rust, as much as he wanted to, knowing that here, finally, no one would be bothered by how they never learned to keep distance between each other. Rust didn't flinch at this intrusion, except for the slightest turn of his head, a glance from the corner of his eyes over the shoulder. Marty slid his hands under his jacket touching his thin body, caressing it with the tips of his fingers. Rust didn't mind that either. He reacted by turning his attention away from the water though when Marty leaned in to his neck, pressing his nose there, inhaling his scent, and planted a quick feathery kiss in a spot just under Rust’s jaw.

“You gonna tell me what we doing here anytime soon? What’s going on?” he wondered.

“This place,” Rust nodded in the direction of the river passing them by in endless purposeful motion. “It has memory.”

“What are you talking about?” Marty chuckled, though he couldn’t deny that there, in fact, was something special about the place. He knew Rust way too long to ever doubt his words again.

“Memory, Marty. Of all the times and all the people who’s ever been here. Long before us. It’s all there, in the water. I mean, who knows, maybe it’ll remember you and me too even after we’re gone for good. There’re places that have special meaning in your heart and you remember them all your life, you know…places you visit in your dreams and can never forget.”

“Never had such dreams in my life. Tell me how's that?”

“You just wait and see then. Brought you here for a reason.”

As soon as the sun went down behind the line of time-worn house rooftops, the river came to life. Marty looked and couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Rust’s words suddenly gained meaning and value. The river was flowing and flickering dimly with mysterious lights. Those lights appeared, one at a time, until they were all over the surface of the water, shining like stars poured down here from the skies above, flowing like liquid gold, soundlessly and smoothly. The gold was reflected in Marty’s eyes and in his hair, making him appear young again, turning time backwards.

“Jesus…what is it? Rust? You know what those lights are? Don’t tell me those are goddamn memories, there must be some rational explanation to it.”

Rust only shrugged his shoulders and blinked slowly, his eyelashes flashing in the shining light. He brushed his unruly curl back in place, revealing his face, the weight of the world imprinted in his eyes full of mystery never to be solved, carved over his cheekbones with sharp moonlit shadows, pressed to his lips in dark purpose to keep forever silent and contemplate the word on its way to perdition. An ancient memory palace in the guise of a man.  

“Ain’t that beautiful!” Marty said, not sure whether his remark was addressed to the river or to the man by his side.

 “Yeah… See, I’m sure it’s not about the place, but about the feeling you attach to it. And I think…”

“What?”

“I think it’s the happiest day of my life.”

Rust flashed a crooked smile at him. They stood there for a while, looking at each other as realization washed over the two of them, until Rust stepped a little closer and locked their lips in a kiss, affectionate and gentle. Marty felt lightheaded when they pulled apart.

"Hey…You never kissed me before", he observed.

"So what? I wanted to.”

Marty smiled.

“Now ain’t that a fine memory to leave behind?”

And the light shone a little brighter.


	2. A LITTLE LOCKED ROOM

***

 

The world rushes into his head through the half-closed eyelids. An annoying thought keeps gnawing at him that if he opens them a tiny bit more his mind will burn down in white hot flames. It’s not a car interior around him anymore but the wall of heat streaming down in waves, reflecting sun in strange zigzags of colors mixed with the sound of cars honking, people shouting and whistling from above where endless scaffolds rise up by the both sides of the road. A line of cars ahead is nothing but a smudge of trembling air wedged in a closed space.

Rust watches it burning around the scaffolds, getting brighter with every passing second and suddenly he’s frightened, scared of being surrounded by all the colors and smells he can taste on his tongue, with all the sudden flashes of green, red and metallic of the cars. He looks at his hands and grips his knees tighter until his knuckles turn white, holding on for dear life as he tries not to slip into this panic. He glances to his left quickly, on reflex, just to register that Marty is side eyeing him pensively, frowning at him. Marty doesn’t need to ask because he knows already that it started again, and this Rust can sense, too. He can feel it coiling like an aching void in his chest, same familiar one that is impossible to fill, no, not after all this time. But now he can gaze into it at least without horror but with this strangely beautiful feeling of solitude. He knows, the most precious part is that he’s not alone in that solitude anymore, because Marty can see it too, they are together in this little locked room. Rust lowers his gaze back at his hands but before he catches Marty’s eyes following his own and suddenly all he wants is for Marty to take his hand. He says nothing but Marty does just so.

“Fucking traffic,” he says at the red light while Rust is lacing his fingers in his, holding on tightly. And he’s comforted all at once, rogue colors disappear into something more real and more recognizable, swaying on the edges just a little. All he needs these days to resurface his existence is the warmth of Martin Hart’s skin against his own and his glowing presence that tastes like sipping honey gold, tastes like home. A part of him that is anchoring him to his own whole self. Marty doesn’t let go of his hand even when the traffic light blinks green and they drive on. Perfect taste of completeness sends warm tingling shivers down Rust’s spine.


End file.
